Apologies to any regular readers who were hanging on the result of our TB test for the cattle. We were (thankfully) given the all clear by the vet and (unlike some of our less fortunate neighbours) do not have to suffer the rigmarole of retesting ‘doubtful’ animals or worse actually losing some of the herd.

Our cows are predominantly Galloways – a wild and woolly breed from the South West of Scotland – and they are well suited to moorland life and more importantly met the criteria for attracting the old Hill Cow Subsidy which used to provide most of the profit on a cow in these Less Favoured Areas of the uplands.

The Hill Cow Subsidy was replaced (along with all of the other production subsidies) in the 2005 shake up of CAP (the European Common Agricultural Policy) and most of the incentive for keeping these less than commercial beast was gone forever.

However it was recognised by Natural England (the government quango with responsibility “to conserve and enhance the natural environment”) that some of these traditional breeds were vital conservation tools in looking after some of our more remote habitats and so they instigated a compensation package called the Tradition Breeds Initiative. This rewarded farmers for grazing sensitive sites with these native cows who have a deserved reputation for finding forage in the most inhospitable corners of scrub and wetlands.

So we duly signed up and kept our Galloways; and as there was no particular market I determined to keep the calves until they naturally reached their full maturity using nothing more than silage and poor quality grazing.

I can now claim to be a bit of an authority on this subject and can confirm that it takes over 4 years for a pure Galloway to reach his full potential in these circumstances. I can also tell you (we had one steer killed last week) that the result taste delicious and fatty and something for you to really get your teeth into.

There is however an unforeseen downside to my breeding policy. After several years we now have a gang of 35 Galloway youngsters of various ages who having spent one or more summers grazing distant areas of moorland out of sight of virtually any human contact have become more or less feral. And whilst the actual TB test was fine, our cattle handling pens (and ourselves) bear the scars of having to coerce this wild bunch through the ‘race’ (the post and rail corridor in which the cattle wait for their turn) twice in a week. To say that they had a smashing time would be understating it – by the time the last steer was tested there was a pile of splintered timber where the proud race had formally stood.

Still – I find revenge is a dish best served medium-rare with a béarnaise sauce!